


Under It All

by Ficfrog



Series: Aftermath [2]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, F/M, Smut, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29285550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ficfrog/pseuds/Ficfrog
Summary: Well, Charlotte didn't think she would survive the Collapse, and now she's stuck in a Bunker with Jacob.Yay.
Relationships: Jacob Seed/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Aftermath [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150583
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	1. One Month In

Charlotte thought that her time in Hope County dragged, but it certainly had nothing on the month she had currently spent with Jacob underground in the bunker. Aside from clear sexual chemistry, neither the other did anything other than platonic at this stage, touches here and there, potentially a cuddle in between when the other felt lonely. _Did Jacob ever feel lonely?_ She wasn't entirely sure. He had been spending the last month in the main common area of the bunker they shared, constantly tabbing through different radio stations and although he didn't necessarily act like it, she could tell he was nervous, anxious. 

So she would sit with him, under the guise of reading a book, and watch him work silently. She'd watch as his eyebrow would twitch in frustration at the static, or the thing he did with his knuckles where he would click them just in his fist as he leaned back and stared at the radio equipment. She had learnt that Jacob was a man of very few words, so asking him about his feelings was something she couldn't just do, it's something he would need to open up to. She couldn't pry it out of him, even if she wanted to, the dude was made of steel. 

Huffing, she sat up and folded her arms over the back of the couch, book long forgotten in her lap as he worked again, flicking through the channels and ignoring her. Resting her chin on the back of the couch, a dusty old green leather thing, she stared at him, hoping in some childlike amusement that it would at least irritate a reaction out of him. It seemed to have worked as his eyes flicked forward to her face, a red eyebrow raised in her direction. 

"How long are we down here for?" She had asked the question before, in the early days of the bunker, but he had abruptly turned away from her and sauntered off down the corridor, so she never got her answer. His chest expanded as he took in a deep breath, rubbing his chin with a dusty hand from the radio before sitting back, doing the clicky-knuckle thing he seemed to love to do. 

"Seven years." They stared at one another, an ongoing battle she had yet to win while she registered his words. She sat upright, tilting her head forward, leaning over the back of the couch, hand cupped to her ear as she let out soft laugh.

"I'm sorry?" She muttered, and he hummed before returning back to the radio, the static echoing against the concrete walls, as if he could hide from her in it. A rush of rage filled her as she sat back, spotting her neglected book on the couch and before she could think, she picked it up and threw it, watching it careen across the room and hinting Jacob in the shoulder with a satisfying thud. He dropped the receiver he was holding and threw his hands up, slightly agitated as she stood up from the couch, rigid. 

"Seven _fucking years, Jacob?"_ Charlotte shrieked, stalking towards Jacob, flailing her arms around. In her loose fitting jumper, she was dwarfed in comparison to him, even with him sitting down, so she must have looked ridiculous as she rounded the table and got in his face. "You're telling me, I've been here for a month and you couldn't fucking tell me this was a _seven fucking year thing?_ " 

He ran a hand through his beard again, huffing a laugh as he looked up at her, eyebrows raised at her attempt of being intimidating.   
  
"Could be worse, darl, ya could have been dead." She jabbed him in the shoulder with her fingers, each jab harder than the next, her anger rising with every motion.

"If I was dead, I wouldn't have fucking cared-- when were you going to fucking tell me this? Were you ever going to? Fuckin' hold me hostage in here and hope I wouldn't ask questions?" Her voice had reached a high frequency that could have broken the sound barrier. Jacob stood up, his legs pushing the chair away as he began to stroll away from Charlotte, who of course followed after him like a woman on a mission. 

"Don't fucking walk away from me, you fucking _dickhead_." Charlotte picked up the nearest object to her from the table and threw it, watching it sail through the air towards Jacob's back as he almost passed through the door, and watched it imbed fully into his shoulder with a sickening thud. He stopped in his tracks, stood solid and Charlotte felt an overwhelming urge to run as she watched his hand reach around to his back and feel for the handle of the screwdriver she had thrown. Slowly, he turned around, clicking his knuckles once again, making no effort to remove the screwdriver as he looked down at Charlotte. 

All bravado gone, she felt the blood drain from her face as no emotion flickered across his face, not even pain. She walked backwards a few steps, her feet padding across the cold concrete floor as he stalked slowly forward, a lion stalking its prey, grabbing the back of the metal chair he had been perched on and dragging it with him, the noise sending fear from her fingers to her toes like ice. Her back hit the bookcase of the room, some of its contents falling by her feet, but she didn't turn to see what had fallen, her eyes were trained on Jacob as he stopped a metre away from her. Twirling the chair around, he sat on it backwards, legs splayed on either side as he rested forward on it, eyes trained directly on Charlotte.

"I'm s-so sorry, Jacob--"

"Pull it out, Charlotte." He cut her off, clipped in tone. Charlotte stared at him incredulously, gripping the bookshelf behind her with white knuckles as she regarded his request. He raised an eyebrow expectantly before motioning for her to walk over with two fingers to him. "You heard me, girl." 

She nodded slowly, walking over to him in calculated movements, picking up a discarded rag with a quick swipe from the table before she rounded behind him, her hand resting on the handle protruding out of Jacob's shoulder with baited breath.   
  
"I'm r-really sorry, Jacob--" He grunted as she gripped the handle and ripped the screwdriver out, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter before covering the wound with the rag in a death grip. He breathed out as she held the fabric against his shoulder and she observed it turn crimson under her touch, it bled into the fabric like the guilt she felt. So many things swam through her mind as she pondered the situation over and over as she held it against him until his hand gripped hers, releasing her from her from the wound. 

"Get the kit." No further than he asked, she bolted from the room, rounding the corridor and running straight into the bathroom for the first aid kit under the sink. Almost fumbling it, she sprinted back, her ankle from her previous injury beginning to swell under the pressure as she ran into the room, dumping the contents of the first aid kit onto the table unceremoniously. If Jacob had an issue with her lack of care, he didn't mention it as he sat still, now shirtless, removing the rag from his wound, Charlotte watched as stray drops of blood bled down his back, and observed the scars that littered him as she uncapped disinfectant onto a cotton swab. Without warning, she pressed it against the wound, her hands still shaking from the adrenaline. 

She cleaned the wound in silence, admiring his shoulder blades, running her free hand along some of the scars littered across him. As her fingers danced across one scar in particular across his spine, he stiffened, but didn't say anything. She smoothened down his uninjured shoulder with her hand, hoping he was reassured at least by her doing this and discarded the bloodied cotton swab to the side. Happy enough that it wasn't that deep that it would require stitches (that was something she hadn't quite learned as of yet) she reached for a sterilized bandage, ripping it out of its packet and slapping it onto Jacob's shoulder perhaps too hard unintentionally. 

She stepped back a few paces as Jacob stood from his seat and turned, a rush of fire igniting from the pit of her stomach as he looked down at her, head tilted. She couldn't help but admire the man in front of her, even with the scars and the burns that peppered his skin, she felt her face flush as he stalked forward, reaching for her hand and pulling her closer to him with one tug. She was only 5'2, so she craned her head upwards as he looked down at her, his fingers caressing the side of her wrist, face blank.

"What did we learn here, Charlotte?" He muttered, eyes dark under the unnatural light of the room. She puffed out her cheeks and looked away, hair hiding her face like a curtain only for him to tilt her face back to him so she could look at him directly again. He hummed, waiting for an answer expectantly. 

"...don't throw screwdrivers?" A small shadow of a smile appeared and vanished on his face as he tilted it to the other side, cupping her other cheek with both hands, thumbs trailing along her jawline. 

"Try again." 

"Think first, then throw screwdrivers?" A smile crept along his face and she felt relief wash through her as he held her face in his hands. He patted her cheek affectionately before pushing past her and Charlotte let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in. Turning, she followed him into the corridor as he made his way to the bathroom to inspect her handiwork, the light of the room bouncing across the shadows of his body, highlighting the strong dips and muscle he had built up over the years. The tiling of the bathroom was colder than the concrete as she padded in behind him, sitting herself on the lid of the toilet seat as he inspected her work on his back. 

"I'm sorry, Jacob. I was just...frustrated. Angry." Looking down at her fingers, she picked at the skin of her nails, unable to look at him as he turned on the sink and began to wipe some of the stray blood drops away that had made their way to his hip. 

"I should have told you sooner." Charlotte blinked at his admission, her hands laying motionless in her lap as she looked back up at him, seeing him staring at her in the reflection of the mirror.

"If we're going to spend seven years down here together, I suppose we gotta get along, right?" She gave him a small smile, and received one in return before he turned off the faucet and wiped his hands with a nearby towel of the bloodied water that remained there. Turning around, he walked back to her and loomed over her. 

"We aint getting along, darl?" 

"I just stabbed you, Jacob--"

"Not the worst thing that's happened to me." She felt a pang of sympathy hit her in the heart as she regarded him before standing up and wrapping her arms around his middle, feeling his own arms around her shoulders as they held one another. 

"I want to get to know you, Jacob." She muttered into his skin, warm against her cheek as he smoothened down her hair, now sitting at her hips. He hummed again before he let her go, taking her by the hand and leading her out of the bathroom, leading her back into the common room with a gentle tug. She padded after him, tucking her hair behind her ears, feeling her face flush once again. The contact with Jacob was always overbearing, sometimes too much, and she never knew how to react to it, never knew what to feel other than heat. He never seemed affected by it, even now, as he paced them through the doorway of the common room and let go of her wrist. She stepped forward and collected the contents of the medical kit that she had disposed on the table back into its box as he sat down at the table once again, watching her clean away the mess she had made. 

Putting the now collected box by the foot of the table, she took a seat on the other side and regarded Jacob over linked fingers, studying his face for anything other than indifference while he studied hers. 

"What do you want to know?" Jacob was the one to break the silence first, causing Charlotte's eyebrow to raise to her hairline. It was almost always her who broke, so this was a small victory if anything.

"How old are you?" 

"44." He ran his hands through his beard before leaning down gingerly to pick up his previously discarded shirt on the floor. She felt a pang of disappointment flutter in her stomach as he curled the shirt down over his head and down his torso before leaning forward and regarding her again. 

"Old man Seed, huh? I'm--"

"25. I know." She blinked, having never told him her age before brushing a stray lock of hair behind her shoulder and leaning back on her linked fingers. 

"How did you know that?" 

"John. He got the whole folder on you, darl." In the last month, Jacob hadn't said John's name, not even Joseph's, so to hear it being spoken was weird to Charlotte. She had thought of him, sure, but it had been so long since she had actually heard another person other than her say his name that it felt strange, foreign to hear. 

"And what else did he say about me?" She tilted her head, relishing the small twitch of his eyebrow as he drummed his fingers on the metal top of the table in front of him.   
  
"Everything." He muttered and suddenly, she felt her face flush once again. She remembered how John left her on the side of the road, lips bruised from the kiss he gave her--

"Surely not everything..." The way he tilted his head down at her knew he meant _everything_. 

"Did I...make you guys fight?" She prompted, swaying her legs in almost a childlike manner and Jacob huffed out a laugh, his canines glinting under the florescence of the light above them as he leaned back into his chair, looping one arm over the back of it. 

"Like cats and dogs, sweetpea." 

"Why?" She pushed again and Jacob's free arm drummed harder against the table, a rhythm Charlotte could never remember but could always recognise. 

"He thought you were his, and I thought you were mine." He muttered, the words quiet in comparison to the drumming of his fingers. She hummed, the flush across her cheeks burning now as she looked away, regarding the discarded books that lay on the floor of the bookshelf she had bumped earlier. Feeling a slight boost of confidence, she sat up from her seat and stood, walking slowly to Jacob in measured movements. His fingers ceased their tune as he watched her approach, her fingers trailing across the table top as she approached him. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she climbed into his lap, legs on either side of his thighs as she regarded him. 

"We got seven years, Jake, why not make me yours?" She leaned forward, dipping her head so their foreheads were touching, his breath dusting across her lips as she spoke. 

"It's not up to me, Charlotte." He muttered back to her, his arms enloping her frame as they gripped the table at her back. She slid her hips further down and rocked against him, relishing a flicker of _something_ in his eyes as she stroked his face, thumbs gliding through his beard. 

"I stabbed you with a screwdriver, you turned me into a psychopath, now we're stuck here together. Clean slate." She leaned forward, lips brushing against his, and before she could finish her sentence, his arm slid up her back as he pushed his lips into hers. A moan slipped through her as she rocked herself against him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, pressing her against him like she was the air within his lungs. He gripped her, rolling his hips into hers, biting her lower lip as she dragged her nails over his forearms, neck, face - it was an animalistic lust she felt deep within her. 

Looping his arms under her, he picked her up with ease, lips never leaving hers as he lead them to the leather couch and lay her flat down, covering her with his body as he sucked and bit at her neck. She moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her shirt, biting down and sucking against her cleavage, leaving bites and bruises across her chest like he owned her. Lifting the hem of his shirt, he slid it off with one arm and she ran her hands across his chest, his stomach, and then eagerly towards the zipper of his jeans. Fumbling like an inexperienced teenager, he huffed a laugh against her lips, helping her with one hand unbuckle his belt before returning to her chest, undoing her bra with an almost violent rip that resonated throughout the room. 

She slid her hand into his jeans, past the hem of his boxers and gripped him, relishing the loud moan that tore through his throat as she began to stroke him. Not one to be outdone, he himself slid his hand down her stomach, under the elastic of her leggings and straight to where she needed him most while nipping at her breast. She yelped at the touch, it had been awhile, way too long for her liking as a high pitched moan ripped from within her, pausing her own motions against him. He rocked his hips against her, eager for her to continue, while working her until she was hard and ready. They were breathing so hard and moaning so loudly that they almost didn't hear it. 

Another voice. From the radio.

"Anybody out there? Hello? Can you read me?" Jacob and Charlotte paused in their activities, faces blank as they stared at one another before she felt herself roll her eyes, releasing him from her grasp.

"John _fucking_ Seed." 


	2. Head

It had been a month since John Seed had made his well-timed appearance over the radio, and Jacob hadn't touched her since, not even a hug or a kiss, nothing - Charlotte had been blue balled and that was something she could not forgive him for. Jacob spent his days either working out in his room, or mumbling on the radio, or just locking himself away, avoiding the blonde at every turn and point, which she had to hand to him, was a significantly difficult task considering the bunker was quite small and there was only two of them. 

After their _encounter_ , Jacob had thrown her off of him and bounded to the radio, shooing her out of the room with a flick of the wrist, and judging by the fact she stabbed him in the shoulder only shortly before their attempt at a hate-fuck reunion, she sprinted from the room to settle herself down and re-evaluate the mess she was in. That was a month ago, it had been a very, very long month. She tried to reach out to the red head a few times, when he was locked in his room, she would leave a canned meal by his door at dinner time, or breakfast, whenever it was, and wait around the corner, hoping he'd call for her or at least say thank you.

She sometimes would loiter around the corner of the common room, listening in on his conversations with John, hoping to hear perhaps her name being muttered, or at least her being mentioned, but so far she hadn't heard it. Only small tid-bits here and there about how each of the men were doing and their own brotherly conversations. It made her miss her family a lot, it had been so long since she had seen them even before Hope County that now that she never had the opportunity to say goodbye, it hurt to think about them. Shuffling to her bed, she wiggled under the covers of her room, becoming a blanket burrito as she stared at the closed metal hatch to her claimed bedroom. A clock on the wall stated it was only 1.30pm in the afternoon, but she was tired, and she was sad. 

For once, she just wanted her Mom to tell her to get up and get something from the grocery store, for her Dad to barge in and tell her about a new record he had found at a second-hand shop, for her Sister to sweep through and steal an item of clothing, and even for her little brother to walk in and for him to ask her to help him with his essay. Her life had been in such turmoil, such complacency in chaos, she missed the little things about her family that she thought she had forgotten.

This time away within the bunker reminded her just how much she had left behind in the old world. Her eyes began to prickle at the thought of it, and then she began to weep. She wasn't much of a crier, was someone who normally tucked away the emotion and let it ferment until she forgot about it, but having spent this long in Hope County, and this long underground with, lets face it, an insane murdering nut job (who she was _incredibly attracted to)_ who was also avoiding her like the plague, the entire situation had decided to unfold within her, like an unwound ball of string down a hill. 

It wasn't until half an hour into her self-isolating break down, she had the revelation of what she missed most - she missed feeling wanted, _loved_ even. 

Charlotte snuggled further into the blankets, rubbing her eyes raw against the roughness of the fabric around her, the tears an endless stream at this point as she sobbed. She thought of Rook, she thought of Mary May, she thought of everybody, and felt like she let them down. They were dead, and she was alive with the enemy, almost _sleeping_ with the enemy. It felt like sacrilege for all they had fought for. Running a shaking hand down to her thigh, she traced the scars on her legs, the ones that John Seed made himself, now faded into white but she could still read it like braille. She loved the time she had spent with Rook and the Resistance, they loved her and she loved them in return, but she ran to the enemy instead of them, and now they were dead and she wasn't.

Shutting her eyes, she imagined the sunshine on her face, Rook handing her a beer in the mid-afternoon as they sat outside the Spread Eagle, Grace cleaning her gun next to her, Jess talking to her about music. She missed them, so fucking much. 

* * *

When she awoke, the clock in the room ticked just past 6.20pm - it would be ten minutes until John would call in for his check-in with Jacob. Stretching, Charlotte unfurled herself from her cocoon, feeling the puffiness of her under-eyes, she knew she looked like absolute shit. She wasn't going to bother to get up today for spying on Jacob, she didn't feel like it - the nap did nothing to help her exhaustion. _If I could sleep the next seven years away, I would._

She sprawled flat on her back and stared upwards at the ceiling, wiggling her toes and counting the cracks that littered it. Closing her eyes again, she remembered the red of the sky, the day John left her on the side of the road, the way the purple and the red melded together, the calmness of the air around her. A part of her wished to be back there, a part of her wanted to reverse time and leave the radio where it was, perhaps she would have been happier with her friends, with Grandma, her family, in Heaven. Sighing, she looked at the hatch to her bedroom, the metal gleaming under the dim light of a candle, and felt a pang of hunger sweep through her.

Blinking away a few stray tears that had begun to resurface, she swept her feet over the side of the bed and stretched, relishing the clicks and pops she heard before shuffling towards the hatch and opening it. Peeping through the crack, the florescence of the concrete corridor almost blinded her as she opened the door further, failing to notice the metal object placed at her door that she kicked, it's screech waking her up as it skidded across the corridor. Charlotte rubbed her eyes and blinked, noticing it was a can of beans, spoon that was poised on top lingering nearby. Looking up and down the corridor, she padded over to it and picked it up alongside the spoon and stared down at it, a soft smile spreading across her freckled face.

He was a fucking psychopath, but it was cute. 

Padding towards the common area, she spotted Jacob sitting by the radio, leaning back with his arms crossed, legs splayed out in front of him at the table as he waited for John to patch through. She didn't really understand why he waited for John to message first, perhaps it was habit, but she ignored him as she walked into the room and began to open the drawers of the kitchenette for a can opener. Charlotte could feel his gaze on her face and back as she moved, but judging by his lack of communication for the last month, she didn't feel like opening up to him right now, or ever. 

Finding the can-opener eventually, she punctured the top of the beans and removed the top of the can, stabbing the spoon into the top before replacing the can-opener back into the drawer and pivoting on her heel to walk back out the door, making the mistake of looking at Jacob on her exit. The look her gave her stopped her in her tracks. She had a spoon of beans sticking out of her mouth, her hair was in every point fucked up, and she wasn't wearing pants, just underwear and a t-shirt, and he looked at her like she was the sexiest thing on Earth. Not wanting to give into him, she raised an eyebrow, sliding the spoon out of her mouth and stared back at him blankly. 

"Have you been crying?" He muttered, and she shrugged, dipping the spoon back into the beans, spell broken. He motioned for her to sit at the table and she frowned, but obliged - she was starved for human contact. His eyes never left her as she pulled the chair away from the table and sat across from him, elbow resting against the table with her cheek in her palm, eating her beans. They sat in silence, Jacob unfurled himself and splayed his arms in front of him on the table, arms long enough to almost make contact with her own, his fingers tapping a rhythm she couldn't follow. She watched his fingers dance along the table, somewhat mesmerized, as she ate her meal, only breaking out of her daydream when the radio fizzed to life.

"Jake, you there?" His fingers stopped as he scooped the receiver up, still staring at Charlotte who looked blankly towards him.

"Yeah, how's things?" He muttered, tabbing his thumb away from the button of the radio so John could give him an update. Taking another spoonful of beans, she stared at Jacob, poking out her tongue before sliding it into her mouth, somewhat annoyed with his sudden interest in her, which earned her a sharp kick to the thigh under the table from his boot. She stared at him incredulously, kicking his shin back with her bare foot and the footsie war under the table began.

"Things are holding up fine, brother - have you heard from Joseph yet?" Jacob reached for the receiver at the same time he slid his free arm under the table, slapping Charlotte on the outside of her thigh, making her yelp. 

"No word, John." She glowered at him and flipped him the middle finger, flushing as a crooked smile spread across his face. He was cheering her up, she didn't _want_ to cheer up. Unable to stop the smirk spreading across her face, she pushed the now empty can of food and spoon to the side and leaned forward, chin resting on her looped fingers and shuffled her hips forward until she was perched on the edge of her seat. 

"And you, brother, how are you doing?" Jacob pushed the receiver to speak and that was when she made her move, running her foot up his thigh and into the crotch of his jeans. He stared forward at her, blankly, holding the button down, mouth slightly agape as she pressed her foot against him. She smiled innocently, and her second foot joined, sliding up the other side of his leg to join the other. Jacob growled, finally letting go of the button on the receiver before flinging her legs off of him and running a hand through his hair.

"Jacob? You there?" Jacob stared at Charlotte who tilted her head back at him before he pressed the button to reply.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. Same old shit, different day." Using her elbow, Charlotte bumped the spoon and can onto the floor, a loud clang from the metal hitting concrete resounding through the room and she ducked under the table, crawling towards Jacob's boots as she slowly slid her hands up his legs and to his thighs, peeking through his legs to stare up at him. He stared down at her, mouth slightly open with the radio in hand as John spoke, quoting a bible passage that Charlotte found slightly familiar. He didn't do anything as she slid his zipper down, running her cheek against the inside of his thigh and sliding her fingers up to the hem of his boxers. 

"Jacob? What's with you man?" Jacob blinked and tabbed the button on the receiver, looking away from Charlotte as she slid her fingers into his pants. 

"Nothing, man, we're in a bunker, what you think I'm doing? Watching the Superbowl?" Answering in a clipped tone, Charlotte found exactly what she was looking for, not that it was ever hard to find, and as soon as she grasped him, his gaze shot straight down to her, mouth opening further as she began to stroke him. He groaned as he tilted his head back, arm with the receiver dropping to the table and she leaned further forward, giving him a tentative lick of her tongue. 

He growled, sitting further forward and splaying his legs further out, his hand winding in her hair as she continued her ministrations. John's voice a dull noise in the background as she began to take him into her mouth, bobbing up and down with the guidance of his hand at the back of her head. 

"Jacob?" Said man muttered under his breath, accidentally pressing down hard onto the back of Charlotte's head as he slid further down her throat, making her gag and his free hand swept across her cheeks, thumb wiping away her tears as an apology as she continued to please him. Finger poised on the button, ready to speak, he breathed in deeply before responding, his free hand sweeping back to the back of her head as she continued to work away at him.

"Yeah brother, just hate being stuck in this place. Bored as hell." She stopped mid bob and raised an eyebrow at him before pulling away slowly, dragging her lips along his length. His eyes were glued to her, his face somewhat flushed at the sight of her as she pulled away, her hand tiny in comparison to his length as she stroked him slowly. 

"Yeah, sucks, especially when you're on your own, right?" John muttered and she took Jacob back in her mouth once again, as deep as she could, relishing the groan from deep within his chest. 

"Yeah, it does -- _suck. Fuck_ ". He gripped her hair tight as she sucked him dry, feeling him stiffen under her touch and felt the urge to grin. Gripping his hips, she took him deeper, tears streaming down her face as she bobbed under the table, his hand pulling taunt on her hair as he got closer and closer to finishing. 

"...Okay, well, you let me know if you wanna talk, okay?" 

"Yeah, whatever, later." Jacob muttered into the receiver and threw it, ignoring the clang of it against the table as both of his hands gripped Charlotte's head, pushing her further down and wildly thrusting into her mouth, growling and gripping her hair. Moments later, which felt like a lifetime for Charlotte, he came with a low growl and she swallowed him down, licking his sensitive head before tucking him away in his jeans. She slid out from under the table and laughed at the sight, Jacob's head tilted back, his chest heaving as if he had run a mile, legs splayed out. She padded over to him and he lifted his head at her approach, mouth open to speak before she raised her palm and slapped him across the face. 

"That was for ignoring me for the last month." She murmured, pivoting on her heel and walking out the room, grin almost splitting her face apart.


	3. First

It wasn't until Charlotte got back to her room where she started to feel a fresh wave of embarrassment, and guilt. Only that day had she been crying in her room about her family, her friends, and then only hours later, she was in between the legs of one of the men who were a part of the reason for her current predicament. Burying herself back into her blankets, she hid her flushed face. _I am a fucking hypocrite._

Still, she felt somewhat proud of her actions, Hell - she felt somewhat _powerful_. Jacob Seed, a man who could strike fear into the heart of many men, and she had him in such a personal and intimate moment where she could have killed him if she wanted. Her fingers twitched under the thought, a small smile spreading across her lips. The whole situation was bittersweet.

She also couldn't help but feel like she had betrayed John in some way too. Sure, she had no obligation to him, especially since he left her on the side of the fucking road, knowing the bombs were about to drop, but she also remembered the sadness in his gaze, the fact he killed two men for her injuries, the fact that-- _Stockholm Syndrome is so fucking fucked._

There was a knock on her door before the tail tale creak of the hatch opening, she didn't bother to lift her head from her blankets to know who it was, boots shuffling over the concrete floor before the door creaked to a close. There was a moment of silence, and Charlotte finally looked up to see if she had perhaps been imagining it, only to see Jacob leaning against the door, arms crossed against his chest, staring back at her.

She raised an eyebrow as he stood and he returned the same look back to her, a ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips as he observed her.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was muffled by the blankets and he huffed, finally running a hand through his hair, slicking it back against his crown. 

"Mind tellin' me what that was about, cupcake?" His voice was low and vibrated through her like a taunt string being pulled. She shuffled out of her blanket cocoon and sat up, leaning against the concrete wall that served as a headboard for her room, tucking her legs under her. 

"I, um..." She didn't really know what to say - _yeah, I gave you head because I wanted to? Even though you're a complete fucking asshole?  
  
_ He waited, eyebrow poised in an almost permanent fashion as he watched her try to stitch words together and she felt a frown paint her mouth as he adopted a look of almost amusement. 

"You...?" He prompted, stepping away from the wall and stalking towards her, reaching the bed in only a few steps, fingers looped into his back pockets. She untucked her legs from under her and swung them over the edge of the bed, still clutching the blanket around her and glared up at him.

"You haven't spoken to me! In a month!" She sounded so childish, it annoyed herself to hear her say it. He hummed, stroking his beard before sitting next to her on the bed, leaning back on his elbows with a sigh. 

"Maybe I should make it indefinite, if I get rewarded like that again." She felt her mouth gape, like a fish out of water before she swung the back of her hand, hitting him square in the chest. A laugh rumbled from deep within him, somewhat infectious and she found herself smiling at the sound. He looped his arm around her waist and wrenched her backward to lay beside him, tucking her head in the crook of his arm as they both stared upwards at the concrete roof. 

"Are you going to tell me why?" She muttered into his skin, feeling his chest still mid-breath. She assumed talking wasn't necessarily an easy thing for Jacob, and with this situation they were in, this was something out of his depth. Skimming her palm along his chest, she looked up at him, seeing his eyes staring almost blankly up at the ceiling, processing perhaps what he was going to say. 

With a sigh, he shifted, his hand coiling in her hair as he finally clicked, looking down at her from his position. 

"John." She blinked slowly, as if that was all the confirmation she needed from him before she looked away, patting his chest for a good job done.

"You didn't want to upset him because...I'm here?" She muttered into his shirt and his answer was instantaneous. 

"No."

"No?" She prompted and his chest stilled once again as he paused, trying to put the words together.

"I thought that if you had heard his voice, you'd want to go back to him darl..." She blinked again, sitting up and rolling over onto his frame to stare down at him. He stared back at her, his hands coming to rest at her hips as she loomed over him.

"Hate to break it to you, _hunny bun_ , but we're in a bunker." He rolled his eyes at her, giving her ass a firm slap, smiling slightly at her jolt before his hands returned back to her hips, drumming his fingers into her skin as if it would help ease his anxiety. _Hard to imagine that this man gets anxious over anything..._

"You know what I mean." She leaned forward at the hips, kissing him lightly on his nose before settling down on him, his arms looping around her to hold her close. 

"He left me, knowing I was about to die, while you came for me, risking your own life." She muttered, and as if relieved, his chest began to descend, letting go of a breath she didn't know he had been holding. His hand came to rest at the back of her neck, combing a stubborn knot that had formed as she had been tossing and turning in her bed earlier and they laid there together in comfortable silence, before a thought crept into her subconscious, a question she had to ask.

"What did you think John and I got up to?" He was silent at first, before he hummed in question. 

"What made you think I would go to John? Like, what did you assume our relationship was?" 

"I don't know sweets, figured from the way he spoke about ya, you were ridin' the hobby horse together." She blinked as the words settled in before jolting upwards, a look of indignation painted across her features.

"What." He smiled at her deadpan delivery, palms returning to grip her hips as she stared at him.

"I did not fuck John Seed." With a pointed finger, she stabbed him in the chest, multiple times to drive home her point. He didn't move during her assault, only beginning to grin further and further poked the hard muscle.

"Glad to hear it." With one solid movement, he rolled them both to reverse their positions, her back flat against the mattress as he loomed over her, settling between her legs, noses touching, hands skimming up her thighs, moving her white t-shirt she slept in upwards to her waist before gripping her jaw and keeping her still. 

"No one, and I mean no one, is gonna touch you, Charlotte, not when I'm around." 

"You're the only one around, we're the only ones in this bunker--"

"No jokes. As soon as you say it, you're mine." His voice hit a low breathy tone, his lips and breath dancing across her own, heat flushing to her face like a tsunami wave as she stared into his eyes, darkening even under the poor lighting of the room.

"Say what?" 

"You'll know when the time comes." She raised an eyebrow at his cryptic tone, nodding slowly before he rolled off of her and settled next to her, cradling her head in the crook of his arm and as if she was under a spell, her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, she woke up to the sleeping face of Jacob, a first for her as he was always awake before her. She felt comfortable, well-rested, but Jacob was a heater and she squirmed under the intensity of the heat he radiated. Then she had to stop, something hard and even hotter than him jolted against her lower back and she blushed before sitting up and staring at him. _Morning wood..._

Combing her hands down his chest, he woke with a jolt, sitting up and looking around the room as if he had forgotten where he was. She shushed him gently, sitting on his hips, grinding her own core against his, fingers entwining in the dog tags around his neck. He settled onto his back, looping an arm over his eyes as she watched his chest ascend and descend with careful breaths before she ground her hips down again, taking pleasure in the way his whole body stiffened under the action. 

"Good morning." She cooed, and the corner of his lips quirked at the tone. Moving his arm, he looked up at her, his hands sliding over her hips and to the globes of her ass, grounding himself up into her, her face flushing red. He hummed appreciatively, digging his hands into her skin as she squirmed. 

"Nice way to wake up, sweets." His voice was gravelly and low from sleep and she smiled, skimming her fingers down his clothed chest and coming to rest at his navel. His hand left her to grip her own, stopping her from progressing further and she pouted. Jacob flipped her onto her back, sliding his hands under her underwear in one quick motion, chucking at the squeal she let out as he began to kiss down her bare stomach. 

"You took care of me last night, your turn." She felt every cell of her blood rush to every pore as he kissed her body, flushing at the way his beard itched against her skin, his hands gliding up and down her thighs as he inched lower, and lower, her underwear - the most _sexy pair_ of white underwear you'd ever have seen, sliding down her thighs and past her knees before she could even blink.

His hair tickled her as he descended down her body, hands stilling on her thighs as he spread her wide open, and Charlotte craned open one eye to dare look down at him, him watching her with an expression darker than she had ever seen him. 

"You ready, baby?" With an shy nod, he dove into her, raking his nails into her inner thighs as he teased her with his tongue. It had been so damn long, her legs hooked themselves over his shoulders as he tasted her, her moans echoing against the concrete walls as he ate her out eagerly, like a man starved for water.

He twirled his tongue around her clit and she let out a loud, low moan, shifting her hips back into the bed, which only made his assault more brutal. He dug his nails into her thighs as he tasted her, giving her a firm slap against her leg, making her jolt in surprise before slipping an experimental finger into her and crooking his finger. She moaned louder, something she didn't think was even possible at this stage as he kissed and dug into her. 

"Fuck, Charlie, when did you last get laid--" She slid her hands into his hair, pushing him further into her, shutting him up before he could ask more questions, he was not going to stop her from chasing this high with questions about her past, or lack-of sex life. She vibrated under his assault, chest flushed and heaving as he added another finger, crooking the two digits deep inside her, and she could feel herself tighten already under his attentions. 

Looking down, she could see the amusement in his gaze as he licked upwards, and she drank in the sight, gripping his hair harder as bliss began to overtake her, a rush of adrenaline shooting through her and before she knew it, she was cumming hard against his mouth, on his fingers, toes curling and body rigid. She fell back into the bed, arm looped over her eyes as she sighed, hearing Jacob shuffle away and appreciatively pat her thighs as she laid there, still spread open. _How lady like..._

Only looking at him when he began to climb off the bed, she sat up quickly, her toes still buzzing with pins and needles, gripping his wrist and stopping him from leaving. He looked at her again with amusement, allowing himself to sit back down on the bed as she climbed into his lap, still wet from his attention. She pressed her mouth against his, groaning at the taste of her still on his tongue, grinding her still sensitive core against him earnestly. He paused her with a firm grip on her hips, shaking his head and she frowned, pulling away from him, but not too far away. .

"I want you..." She muttered into his mouth and he sighed, unable to stop his hips jolting up to meet hers.   
  
"We don't have--"

"I don't care." This was lust talking, she would regret it perhaps later, but her head was in the clouds, and she wanted more.

"Charlotte, you know what could happen--" She ground her hips further down on him and he groaned. 

"Come on, daddy." Something in the back of her mind cringed, she was never one for nicknames or dirty talk, but it just seemed to fit. There was a sudden change in his face at the pet name in Jacob's features, and as if she had become a whole different person, she rocked her hips forward, wanton.

"I want you to fuck me, daddy." She muttered, sliding her hand down his chest and under the hem of his jeans that had perhaps come undone during the night, gripping him in her palm and stroking him under her hips. 

"Charlotte." His voice was low, as if warning her and she smiled, gripping him tighter and watching his eyes flutter slightly as she pulled him out of his confinement, sliding her core across his length. He groaned and gripped her hips tighter, head dipping back as she continued to rock her hips against him. 

"Take what's yours, daddy." As if a switch had been flicked, he pushed her onto her back with force and spread her wide open once again, his member pressed so close to where she wanted him to be that she felt like she would cry if he didn't do something. 

"What's mine, baby?" He muttered, holding his length close to her, the tip sliding only centimeters in as she squirmed. She held his gaze, face flushed, chest heaving as he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered to him, to the point of desperation.

"Yours, I'm yours." With a growl, he plunged into her, stretching her in ways that she felt like she had never been stretched before and she yelped, the sudden intrusion being more than she could have handled even with preparation. He gripped her wrists together and held them above her head as he began to plummet into her depths, almost violently snapping his hips against hers, snarling almost animalistic as he fucked her.

All Charlotte could do was mewl appreciatively, goading him on with her own moans and desperately trying to keep up with his pace. He gave her a firm slap to her outer thigh once again before sliding his hands around her neck, brushing her pulse with his thumb. Her legs hooked themselves around his hips, dragging him deeper within her as he fucked her, another orgasm beginning to build through the momentum and unleashing once again before she could have a chance to comprehend it. 

He groaned as she pulsated around him, and she grinned, drunk on him as he began to twitch inside her, before spilling himself into her and flooding her with warmth. All she could do was smile like an idiot as he buried himself deeper into her and take every drop he could give her. He dipped lower, giving her a languid kiss as he slid out of her, clutching her in his arms and rolling them onto their side, pulling the threadbare blanket over them as they clutched one another.

"So, that's what you meant by when the time comes, huh?" Jacob hummed, eyes closing, brushing his nose against hers and pulling her hips close. She couldn't keep the smile off of her face as she joined him in post-sex bliss.

_I could get used to waking up like this every morning..._


	4. Three Months Later

It's funny how quickly time flies and yet, feels like it slows at the same time. Within a blink of an eye, three months had past since her morning wake up frenzy with Jacob and it had been strangely blissful. It helps that they had a constant stream of sex, that was an aggressive and effective output that she should have perhaps explored long ago, but it was nice being able to wake up next to somebody every day, regardless of who it was she was waking up next to. Five months into a seven year long journey, Jacob and Charlotte had formatted a very symbiotic relationship. 

It was still on the table however of when Jacob was going to let the cat out of the bag regarding Charlotte's wellbeing, especially to John who had called in every single day, sometimes multiple times out of pure boredom, which would catch both Charlotte and Jacob off guard when they were - ahem - engaged in other duties. She had a small inkling, or perhaps paranoia, that John knew Jacob wasn't telling the complete truth, and she took a small pleasure in knowing that it was probably really, _really_ , pissing him off. Jacob didn't seem to mind inching around the issue, diverting the conversation wherever he can, or just choosing not to answer John when he probed him about his whereabouts.

Recently, over the last month or so, John started to express his worries of becoming a father to Jacob, who would shift his eyes to Charlotte, face slightly alarmed at the prospect of heart-to-heart conversations with his brother, not knowing what to say. She started mouthing responses for Jacob to reply with, coaching him through being empathetic, helping John with his insecurities as she quickly learned that when John has an issue, Jacob has one too, and that creates tension. Not the delicious kind she liked either. 

She learned that Holly had become more needy, something that she hadn't quite thought was possible as she was needy to begin with, and being stuck with Holly in the same bunker 24/7 had been driving John ballistic. He constantly raved about her flaws, ranted, spat them out like glass in his mouth. Sometimes he got so mean that it even hurt Charlotte's feelings to hear him speak about Holly like that, to the point where she sometimes just needed to give Jacob a look of frustration for him to divert the conversation or chastise John for talking about the mother of his child like that. Jacob wasn't good at deep and meaningful conversations, but when he told John to stop or gave the hint, John knew when to stop.

Waking up on the green leather couch in the common room, Charlotte blinked blearily at the clock on the wall, ticking towards 3.00pm in the afternoon and sighed, stretching her limbs out as far as she could and wiggling her toes, the familiar buzz of the radio waking her from her nap. Someone was trying to get ahold of them, the buzz becoming more annoying than soothing so she stood up from her seat and looked for Jacob. Walking out into the corridor, she could hear him grunting from the bedroom - one that he finally allowed her to move into with him, and she headed straight for him. Upon reaching the doorway, she admired the muscles of his back working as he did push ups on the floor, a thin sheet of sweat building over his skin, and he had foregone a shirt, which was a bonus for her.

"Hey big guy, radio is going crazy. Think John might be having a breakdown. _Again_." Jacob paused mid-push up and sighed, rolling his head up to give her a deadpan stare before lifting himself up from the floor in one smooth motion. He stalked forward and before she could protest, he scooped her up and she squealed as they made their way back to the common room of the bunker. With a light tap to her behind, he lowered her to the floor as soon as he walked through the doorway, rounding the metal table and sweeping the receiver up in his palm, giving her a warning look as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

"Jacob here." He muttered into the receiver and she couldn't help but poke her tongue out at him before she went to the kitchenette to make a coffee. John didn't answer, only the fuzz of white noise retorted as Jacob waited for him to respond. Picking up a second mug, she pointed from the coffee to the cup, then to him and he nodded as he spoke once again into the radio. She busied herself with making coffee, almost missing the voice that was not John's echo through the room.

"Jacob." She almost dropped the mugs onto the floor as she spun around, the burn of liquid that had escaped over the brim onto her hands barely registering to her as she stood in shock. Jacob had a blank look on his face as well, sitting down abruptly and running his free hand through his beard. 

"Joseph." He muttered into the microphone and she sprinted forward, sliding the mug of coffee over to Jacob and sitting across from him on the table, fingers laced in front of her as they waited for Joseph to respond.

"How are you, brother?" Joseph always had a soft voice in comparison to Jacob or John, one that was kind, it always seemed genuine. Charlotte never had many dealings with Joseph, thankful to never have been in the room long enough with him, so she didn't really know what he was like, only from what his brothers had told her. Taking a sip of coffee, still a bit too hot for her liking, she watched as Jacob drummed his fingers along the metal of the table, his eyebrows furrowed as he thought. _I thought he would be relieved...?_

"I'm fine, Joseph. How are you? Where have you been the last five months?" 

"I am well, brother. I needed time to think...to process and to pray. Don't worry, I'm not alone. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting." Charlotte stalled in taking another sip as Jacob muttered back and forth with Joseph, his shoulders easing with every response. It seems like Joseph was the mediator of the family, perhaps the best person for John to unload his anger on, or perhaps the best person to bring out Jacob's inner thoughts and feelings, it was clear he was more empathetic than his brothers. 

"Have you reached John?" 

"No, not yet. I assume he would be busy with his son." 

"She's due any day now, Joe, not quite there yet." 

"Ah, I look forward to seeing him, eyes of blue, hair of red." Charlotte smirked over the rim of her cup, she hoped the kid would be a complete little hellion to John, that's the least he deserved. Jacob palmed the now cooled mug in front of him, holding it close to his lips before responding.

"I'll give you his frequency, brother. He'll be glad to hear from you." 

"Speak soon, Jacob." 

* * *

It was strange, hearing all three brothers speak at once on the same radio. Charlotte set a plate down of powdered eggs in front of Jacob, the time of 6.00pm blinking as John's usual talk time now accompanied Joseph. It had been a week since Joseph had reappeared into existence, and not much had really changed. Perhaps John had calmed down slightly, but he was still riddled with anxious energy the closer it got to Holly giving birth, which from what it sounded, she was very close to bursting at the seams.

Handing Jacob a fork and sitting down to eat, they waited for John to patch himself through - Joseph only joining in the conversation once he knew both brothers were there, and Charlotte shoveled the egg into her mouth, grinning at the look of disbelief from Jacob as she launched into the plate.

"You been eatin' a lot, girlie." She frowned, hand poised above the eggs to process his comment. 

"What's that mean?" He huffed a laugh before taking a forkful of food himself, chewing it slowly and absorbing her glower in amusement. She must have looked like an angry chipmunk from the way her cheeks puffed out. 

"You been eatin' more, it's nice to see some more meat on ya bones." She gave him a firm kick to the shin and he laughed, coughing slightly as John's voice began to echo through the radio channel. 

"Sorry I'm late, Holly...she uh, she gave birth." Jacob raised his eyebrows as he chewed his food, and Charlotte felt a wave of relief wash over her. It sounded like Holly made it through okay, pregnancy was a tough thing to go through, especially with John and being stuck in a bunker, and with the end of the world and all.

"That's wonderful, John. How is your son?" Joseph's voice crooned through the speaker, genuine and kind and Jacob continued to eat his food, only pausing to take a sip of water here and there. Charlotte had already cleaned her plate and was waiting for Jacob to finish at this point to do the dishes, nails drumming against the metal of the table, a habit she had inexplicitly picked up from the older Seed himself. There was a sudden silence over the airwaves, which was out of character for John, to which Joseph prompted him again. 

"John? How is your son?" Jacob stilled in eating, dropping his fork to the plate of unfinished eggs as he stared towards the radio. Charlotte leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling a nervous energy begin to kick in as they waited for the news.

"I don't have a son, Joe -- I have a daughter." Charlotte looked at Jacob who looked at her, both blinking at one another. Jacob had said once that Joseph was never wrong, he always had the right predictions, so this was new. Uncomfortably new. Joseph didn't respond at first, leaving an awkward gap in conversation, one that was giving Charlotte second-hand anxiety as she flailed at Jacob to congratulate John, _to say anything_. He picked up the receiver and with a deep breath, pressed the button.

"Grats Johnny, bet she's beautiful." John replied with a deep sigh, as if he were disappointed and Charlotte resisted the urge to pick up the receiver and throttle him (verbally of course), choosing to instead chew on her thumb nail, observing the situation as it unfolded. 

"John, I saw you were to have a son. I saw a child with red hair, blue eyes, freckles -- does Holly not have red hair and freckles?" Joseph muttered back, his voice suddenly void of all emotion, it was almost scary in a way how quickly his demeanor changed over the radio. 

"Uh, yeah Joe, she has red hair and blue eyes, not the freckles but--"

"Jacob." The chill in Joseph's voice was enough to suck all of the air out of the room as Charlotte stared at Jacob, who sat emotionless at the table, receiver in hand. He gave her a look, a strange one, but she understood - the game was up. 

"Yeah, Joe?" He muttered into the radio, and Charlotte stood up, moving around the table to sit right next to Jacob, looping her hands with his free one as he clutched the receiver. 

"Who is with you in your bunker?" He looked to her and she nodded, gripping his hand and resting her head against the muscle of his arm. 

"A woman." She rolled her eyes at his last attempt at diversion, but buried her face deeper into his arm, eventually letting herself be enveloped into his side as he draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. 

"Who is she, Jacob?"

"Charlotte Dunn, Joe." His grip on her shoulders tightened as he pulled her close.

"Now it makes sense."

"I'm sorry, what the _fuck?_ " 


	5. Weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide attempt, please read at your own discretion.

She asked him not to do it again, and he broke the promise. 

He let go of her hand and asked her to leave with just a look, one that could almost be considered pleading, and she walked out of the common room, the cold of the concrete finally registering in her brain as John's high pitched screaming resounded within the bunker. Charlotte felt numb walking back into the bedroom they shared, opening the hatch with an impatient shove and storming over to the mattress, flopping down onto it like a ragdoll. 

Jacob didn't come to bed that night, in fact, she couldn't remember the last time he came back to bed as the nights and days melded together, it could have been months since she had last seen the red-haired ghost, she didn't know anymore. She didn't even know how long it had been, and before, she thought his avoidance of her was impressive, now it's on a new level of its own. It was as if she was living with a ghost - he must have completely switched his schedule or something, lurking throughout her sleeping hours and hiding within the old room she used to reside in when she was awake. She was alone again, and it hurt. 

She spent her days alone in the bunker, surrounded by nothing but her own thoughts. She tried exercising, she tried drawing, she tried writing, she tried meditation, but she felt like the dark cloud that hung around her expanding into a constant blanket of doubt, of hurt, of humiliation, of sadness. She started to not want to wake up anymore, not wanting to be awake, her sleep was only filled with darkness, she was beginning to feel crippled under her loneliness. 

Charlotte even attempted to seek Jacob out, who refused to answer behind the door to the room he was occupying, which she assumed he had succumbed to his own emotional isolation from her. Before, she had used her sexuality to get him to open back up to her, but Charlotte didn't feel like she was in the right position at all anymore. She felt like a burden to him, and that made her reaching out to him feel like desperation, like guilt. She didn't want to bother him anymore which is why she stopped.

Just when she was tiptoeing on the edges of happiness, it was ripped from underneath her like a rug. Jacob had internalised into himself, shut himself off from her yet again, and she had some idea as to why. John and Joseph, the foretold prophecy of a child that hadn't even been conceived yet, let alone born. Thankfully, her periods had come and go, her pregnancy avoided once again. 

As she lay in bed picking at the threads of the blanket over her, she wondered about their father. Not Joseph, obviously, but their actual father. Jacob and John never spoke of their parents, the conversations that she did have with them always were directed back to her which would begin a game of deflection that both parties were well-versed in. Burrowing herself into the blanket further, she pulled at the strand, watching the thread unravel as she mused. Did Jacob not want children? Was she the issue? Or was there a deeper meaning under all of this? Did he feel like he would turn into his father?

Was he afraid? 

Rolling onto her side, she slid her cold hands between her thighs, the chill of the bunker beginning to settle in her bones. Charlotte could just grab Jacob by the balls and shake the answers out of him, but she didn't want to face him, her own idea of her lack of self-worth crippling her from acting on it. She was breaking, perhaps already broken, and all she wanted was to be loved again. She was sick of being alone.

The thought lead her back to her own family, her own parents and a pang of sadness stabbed her like a ice pick to the chest. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture them, but the images of her mind were distorted, blurred even. She felt a tear begin to bead under her eyelid at the realisation that she couldn't even remember what her family looked like, it had been so long. 

Sitting up, she ignored the clock on the wall and looked around for a stack of empty notebooks she had pilfered a few days earlier from the common room, sitting exactly where she had left them in the corner of the room. Swinging her legs over the bed frame, she tiptoed to the stack and fished out a book, fumbling in the lantern light for a pen located in a neat pile next to the books and clicked it a few times, more out of personal satisfaction than to see if it was working. Picking up the lantern, she walked back to the bed and set it down on the end table next to the bed and climbed back under the covers, back against the wall and poised the pen over the page. 

"I don't want to forget you." She spoke to no one in particular, the rasp of her voice from disuse feeling like nails on a chalkboard to her own ears as she began to sketch her family, on individual pages. Her father first, tall and blonde, bushy mustache and broad build. Loved fishing, loved wearing plaid, had a small scar on his chin from when he was a teen in a skateboarding accident. The tears began to roll down her cheek, but she didn't bother to wipe them as she got so absorbed in every detail she could remember about her family. 

Her mother, poised and pristine, pressed floral blouse, straight blonde hair pinned meticulously everyday to the back of her head, sea green eyes and sun-freckled from gardening. Crows feet in the corner of her eyes, alongside frown lines that she would say she never had until she had kids. 

Her sister, leather jacket, blonde hair in curls, maroon lips and a tattoo on the wrist of a dove, a key that their grandmother had dangling around her neck. Her brother, skinny and tall, freckles all over his face like a pollock painting, always styled hair that fell over his face like a young Nick Carter, and he always had that goddamn cocky smirk, like he knew the answer to everything. 

Charlotte's pen poised over the last page, the last person left was her grandmother and she blinked through her tears as she tried to remember her, only for them to fall freely downwards as she struggled through her memory bank for anything, everything, she could remember about her, but she couldn't. She could feel the emotions, the love she had for her, but nothing else sprung to mind other than the little things. Cigarette smoke, a pinned up-do reminiscent of the 50's, high neck dresses and blouses. Charlotte let the pen fall from her fingers as she buried her face in her palms, the sadness hitting her once again like a wave of emotion. 

"I didn't want to forget you." She sobbed, her tears streamed down her arms and littered the notebook in front of her. "I can't do this, I can't do this anymore."

She looked up from her palms, her admission shocking herself, and the chill of the air settled finally on her skin, reminding her of the loneliness she had tried to deflect as she pondered her own words. The tears began to dry against her cheeks, sticky as she felt herself fall into a void of thought. If she hadn't had left home, she could have died with her family, they would never have left her side. They wouldn't ignore her for weeks -- or months, they wouldn't leave her on the side of the road to die, they would have kept her close, just like they always had in their own way. _All this time I had spent running around Hope County, being in this bunker, could have been spent with them, dead or not._

"Dead or not." Her heart stopped at her thought process, and it was at that point, Charlotte realised just how broken she was. "I'm done. With all this shit, I'm done." She ripped off the blankets over her lap and balled them up, throwing them as hard as she could across the room. She stood up from the bed, beginning to pace to and from one point of the room to the other, the nail of her thumb between her teeth as she folded her arms around her.

"I want to be with them, I want to be with my family." Her feet burned from the chill of the concrete, but her blood was pumping in her veins as she paced. She knew what she was thinking, what she was implying, a thought that had crossed her mind from time to time previously but she was too scared to do anything about. Her nails began to dig into her side, through the threadbare sweatshirt she had been wearing to bed as she finally stilled, staring forward at the hatch door, the glint of a bolt attracting her line of sight, the bolt previously unseen as she felt her eyes dart from it to a wire she had pinned at the back wall to hang her clothes as a makeshift wardrobe, and her fingers went numb.

_How badly do you want to be with them, Charlotte?_

_Is this really the life you want to live? Why wait when you can be with them again?_

_Jacob, Joseph, John - they don't care about you, Charlotte, you were a means to an end, whatever the end may be._

_It's time to go, Charlotte, you've done all you can._

_You're done, Charlotte, you know you are._

As if on auto-pilot, her feet began to pad forward to the wire, and it was like she was having an out of body experience, watching her hands rise to untie the wire from the hook, her clothes falling to the floor as she began to loop the wire, knotting it in a loop and dragging a nearby wooden chair towards the hatch door. She felt conflicting emotions, she felt sadness, overwhelming to her core, but she also felt hope, that she wasn't going to be alone again, she was going to be with her loved ones again. She wouldn't have to continue living life like this. With a shove, she opened the hatch, the screech of its hinges cutting through the silence of the bunker as she poised the chair within the doorway and stood on it, looping the end of the wire around the bolt and giving it an experimental tug.

The numbness she felt within her fingers had slowly spread up her body and into her chest as she looped the wire around her neck, tightening it and tugging it once again before poising her foot on the back of the chair. She could feel her heart drum within her ears, drowning out the ticking of the nearby clock, barely registering the sound of boot cladded footsteps down the corridor as she breathed in and out, clenching her fists, shaking the nerves away from within her.

"What are you doing, Charlotte?" She poised, the air leaving her lungs as if she had kicked the chair away already. She wouldn't open her eyes to look at him, she couldn't, she knew what she would see. 

"I'm not going to ask again, Charlotte." His voice was closer, low and clipped, as she listened to his boots slowly click down the corridor. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she tried to push with her foot, tried to will herself to do it, but a force clamped down on the back of the chair by her bare foot, radiating warmth. Turning slightly, she craned open one eye and looked at the hand holding her in place, following the scarred arms, up his shoulders, neck and finally settling on his face, blank with emotion. 

"I-- I can't do this anymore, Jacob." She muttered, her lips chapped as she stared at him. He only returned her gaze, nodding slightly before running his free hand against his chin and through his hair. She could hear his fingers digging into the chair, the wood creaking against his strength. 

"Do what?" He held her gaze and she felt like a child in a classroom, being scolded by the teacher. 

"This. The isolation, the loneliness. I-- I just want to be with my family again. I can't wait around for you or for peace. I just can't." Her tone felt dead to her, foreign on her tone as he regarded her, eyes like ice before his lips turned into a snarl, his canines biting through his bottom lip as he leaned in. 

" _Weak_." She blinked, the dried tears against her cheeks beginning to itch on her skin as she took in his words. Her mind went blank and her racing heart stilled as he stared into her very soul. "No soldier of mine would kill themselves, much less over that. You're weak - only the strong survive, Charlotte." A laugh tickled the back of her throat before she could stop it, sardonic in nature, which then turned into a cackle. He regarded her no different as she divulged into a fit of manic giggles, only waiting for her fit to end. When it finally did moments later, she wiped her eye and regarded him, a smile spread across her face as she took in his stoic expression.

"It's moments like these where I take off the rose coloured glasses and realise the monster I fell in love with." With firm hands, she shoved him back with as much force as she could muster and watched as he stumbled slightly. Quickly, she pushed the chair away with both feet, waiting for the wire to coil around her neck, hopefully snapping it in a swift motion, but as always, she forgot how much power Jacob had, how quick he was, and how stubborn he was as well. She always simultaneously overestimated and underestimated him. 

He wrapped his arms around her hips, keeping her still as he fished out a hunting knife from his pocket, sawing through the wire as she clawed at him, screams of insults echoing around them, taking her moments to realise it was her, new tears erupting from her eyes as she carved her nails into his arms, his back, his skin, wherever she could hurt him, she tried. With a firm boot, he kicked the chair further into the corridor once he had sawed the wire, freeing Charlotte and carried her to the bed, wrapping his arms around her as she continued to scratch at him. She felt his hands begin to unwind the bun in her hair as he held her in his lap, running his fingers through her locks and humming an unknown tune close to her ear. 

She felt the screams in her throat begin to die, transmuting into sobbing once again, exhaustion finally forcing her to stop as she allowed him to hold her to him and coddle her like a child, rocking her back and forth in his lap as her tears began to soak through his shirt. His free hand began to rub circles along her back as she felt her joints begin to relax against him, his warmth settling against her skin like heater as he continued to sooth her, hum to her until she couldn't cry anymore. As soon as her sobbing subsided, his humming stalled, his movements stilled as he lifted her head away from his shoulder and curled a palm around her cheek.

"You're weak, Charlotte, but I will help you get strong again." Jacob's thumb ran firm under her eyes as he regarded her, his face warm against the lantern light and Charlotte felt her hands curl upwards to rest on his wrists, his hands enclosing around her cheeks.

"I can't do this without them Jacob, without you -- my family."

"Memories are apart of us always, Charlotte, but that's all they really are. I'm sorry, for leaving you alone. I needed time to think, about my future-- our future. My parents were fucking awful, Charlie - and then my brother tells me I'm gonna be a father? Like, _shit._ Then there's John, but that's a story for another time. I can't do this alone, darl, I need you like you need me. We got each other from now on, and I promise that I won't make you feel like this again, darl." She took in his words, nodding slowly before he gripped her once again, crushing her against his chest, enclosing her within him. 

"I'm so sorry, darl - I aint gonna goad you like that again, I'm gonna make you strong again. I promise." 

She wanted to believe him, she really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mental health is an issue that is really important to me, and it's important to know that even the strongest of people have their moments of doubt, of pain, of suffering. If you or someone you know is struggling, it's important to reach out to them and help them as much as you can, but to also not neglect your own wellbeing in the meantime. 
> 
> Loneliness and isolation, especially during the current climate, is very hard so please check in with your loved ones as much as possible but also look after yourselves. You are all beautiful, talented, wonderful people and I treasure those who have supported me and my writing along the way. 
> 
> For those who are low, I would love to lend an ear to you - you are valid, you are important.
> 
> <3


	6. Birthday

When Charlotte awoke, a steady thrum of a heartbeat echoed against her back as she was enveloped in warmth, her face itched and her eyes were swollen, but what she could only feel was a numbing shame as she stared towards the other wall. How quickly her mental walls had unraveled in that moment of loneliness - she had been stabbed, brainwashed, drowned, shot at, but it was the fact she was alone was what made her crack. Shifting slightly, she slapped her palm against her face, embarrassment flooding her as the memories began to re-emerge of the evening before, frame by frame. When did she become so weak, as Jacob said, to decide that?

Did she fight this far only to end it all now? What would have Rook said?

Jacob's arm twitched over her waist as he stirred, knuckled clicking, a sign Charlotte had grown to know as his waking up state as she buried her head further into the pillow, face aflame. She was ashamed, and Jacob was there to watch her through her worst moment. What did he think of that?

Shutting her eyes, she felt him withdraw his arm from her body and felt the bed dip under his weight as he leaned over, his hand brushing a few strands away from her face softly. For a moment, she thought perhaps she had convinced him that she was asleep, but a firm poke to her cheek was enough for her to snap her eyes up at him and muster the scariest glare she could. He gave her a crooked grin, not intimidated in the slightest before looping his arms around her and rolling her onto him into a bear hug. She didn't struggle, just allowed herself to be thrown around like a ragdoll, too tired to put up a fight about it as he held her, his fingers curling her hair away from her face as his chin rested atop of her head.

"How we feelin', cupcake?" He murmured, voice still rusty from sleep as he cradled her. She couldn't reply, too may answers on the tip of her tongue and she was thinking so fast that she couldn't pick one. Her silence must have been enough as his arms tightened around her, her cheek against his sternum as they laid there. 

"I almost did what you did a few times, darl. Different reasons." She almost didn't catch his words, so low and soft that she thought she had imagined them. Lifting herself up to look down to him, he diverted his gaze to the side, fingers still running through the lengths of her hair.

"The weak do not survive, Charlotte. The strong do - your moment of weakness doesn't define you, it's how you get back up that does." Finally turning back to her, he stopped running through her blonde locks, hand choosing to cup the side of her cheek, his eyes distant as he regarded her. "I ain't gonna let you go down like that, I'm not gonna let you waste your potential, your strength. You've made it this far, kid, I need you." 

"How long did you leave me alone for?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them and he blinked, eyes sharpening as he returned back to the situation at hand. Dropping his arms to his side, he slid an arm under the covers and began to dig around in his pockets - he had fallen asleep with all his clothes on again - and fished out a digital watch, chunky but perhaps too small for his own wrist and clicked on the button, the LED screen lighting up in a blaring white hue. 

"Two months." He muttered and she nodded, resigned. Blinking to the screen, she looked at the numbers tick by - it was 6.45am, her eyes flickered to the date in the corner of the screen and she froze. Charlotte had arrived into Hope County in October 2014, and that was perhaps the last time she had access to a calendar.

"...It's 2016." He hummed in acknowledgement and clicked the digital watch off as Charlotte loomed over him. She sat upright on his waist as he regarded her, her thighs on either side of him as she looked away towards the door.

"I came her in October 2014. And you're telling me that it's 15 February 2016." His hands slid up to her hips as he nodded, drinking in her comprehension. "I'm not 25 anymore, I'm turning 27 in a few days..." Jacob sat upwards and lifted Charlotte from his lap in one swift motion, as he stood, white v-neck crinkled from sleep as he stalked towards the pile of clothes Charlotte had thrown into the corner, fishing out a pair of socks and returning back to the bed. Lifting one of her ankles up, he slid the fabric of the sock down her feet, small in comparison to his hands and repeated with the other. Charlotte sat motionless, allowing him to dress her up warmly as he wrapped the blanket around her and lifted her up from the bed, bridal style, walking her out of the bedroom and into the corridor.

"You're not wearing your boots." She muttered from the bundle of blankets he had encased her in as he paused in his stride, looking at the soles of his feet before shrugging and walking into the common room and settling her down on the well worn couch. She didn't say much as he walked to the kitchenette, mugs clacking and a kettle boiling distantly in the background. She felt like shit, she felt like shit because she had tried to kill herself the night before, she felt like shit because she had lost over a year of her life, she didn't know how else to describe it. 

Jacob returned, settling a mug of coffee down on the coffee table in front of her and scooting next to her, dragging her into his lap, back to chest. She caught a glimpse of a hair tie between his teeth as she tried to turn to look at him, only for him to tut at her and face her head forward with a strong hand to the chin. He gathered up her hair to the top of her head, fingers brushing through any knots caused from sleep as he bundled the mop up out of her neck and face. Her eye twitched as he pulled a few times at her scalp, the pain reminiscent of when her father used to do her hair as a child, unsure and unaware of his strength before he eventually got it sitting on the top of her head. 

"Drink your coffee." He muttered as he leaned forward, picking up his own mug and balancing it on the arm rest next to him. Charlotte sat forward and gripped the ceramic between her palms and took a tenative sip - he made it just how she liked it. She didn't even know he paid attention to that sort of thing. They sat in silence, drinking coffee and each others company, staring forward into the black void of an old TV no longer in use poised across from the couch. Soon his fingers began to drum against her inner thigh, another Seed anxious tick that she had grown to learn, which prompted her to lean forward and set her mug down, turning in her blanket cocoon on Jacob's lap to stare down at him. 

"What's on your mind?" She muttered and his eyes darted from her face to the wall, his fingers stilling at the question before he sculled back the remainder of his coffee in one swig. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he couldn't look at her face, and she cupped his cheeks to look at her upward. Blue eyes stared into her own as he cleared his throat a few times, his palms running down the cushions of the couch so much that she was sure he would begin to lose a few layers of skin on his palms. He was nervous, he was almost never nervous. 

"Would it be so bad to be the mother of my kid?" She stilled in his lap, blinking downwards as she drank in the words. 

"Huh?"

"Was that part of the reasons that you-- did it drive you to do what you did? The prophecy?" His eyes darted away from her face once again as she lowered her hands back into her blanket confinement as she regarded him. Before she could stop it, a giggle tore through her throat as she folded over, her forehead resting against his.

"You are such a fucking dick." Jacob raised an eyebrow at her statement, becoming stiff under her as he stared into her gaze, fingers curling around her waist. 

"I know why I was a dick, but. I just gotta know, cupcake. I know I ain't Dad material, but, I think I could do it, when ya ready." He cleared his throat once again, his hands drumming against her sides as she watched his lip quirk, his eyebrow twitch. He was really fucking nervous, or comfortable to show her this side of him.

"Are you giving me your blessing to be your baby mama, Jake?" His lip curled upwards, a coy smile that she had not seen in so long that it hurt brightened up his face.

"I don't know, darl, do you want to...y'know, be my baby mama?" She returned his grin, her chapped lips stinging from the motion, but she didn't care as pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, his hands coming to slide up the back of her shirt as he held her. 

"Gotta buy me dinner first." Jacob gave her a sharp slap to her ass and she felt whole again.

* * *

After the incident, Jacob refused to leave her alone, choosing to spend every waking moment together. He cooked her meals, he did her laundry, he even continued his routine of sliding socks up her feet in the morning, and insisted on her joining him on a work out routine that would leave her tired and aching until kingdom come, only leaving her briefly to speak to Joseph and John at the required time every night - the effort he was making alone was enough to make her feel comfortable, less lonely, and stronger. She couldn't do this isolation shit on her own, no fucking way, and he made such a huge difference in her life and resolve. Her mother would probably give her shit if she knew how reliant on a man Charlotte had gotten, but she didn't want to think of her mother, it hurt too much.

Charlotte sat in the common area, a copy of a Charles Dickens book in hand as Jacob had set down her coffee that morning in front of her, hands tucked behind his back as she turned a page, idly standing in front of her waiting for her attention. She rolled her gaze upward as he stared down at her, eyebrow raised as he rolled his shoulders back.

"It's March 1st, sweets." She stilled in her spot on the couch, book suddenly forgotten as he leaned forward, a small package in his hand wrapped in newspaper haphazardly, the ink from its pages still smeared on his hands. "Happy birthday." 

Apprehensive, she sat forward and took the package from his hand, looking down at it questioningly before tearing open the paper, feeling the sharp edges of a wooden frame between her fingers as she turned it over. She blinked, blood flushing to her face with emotion as the faces in the frame stared back at her. Jacob sat down next to her, linking his fingers between his knees as he watched her inspect the photograph.

"How-- How did you?" 

"Told you I had a file on ya, darl. They got a family photo in there, and I saw your sketches in the book so. I threw out the diploma that was in the frame, that guy don't need it anymore, and chucked that in there." She could feel the sniffles beginning to itch once again at the tip of her nose as she willed herself not to break down again, her finger tips tracing the faces of her family who smiled back up at her. It was a family photo, she had something to remember them by. 

She turned to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his chest, fingers digging into his back. "Thank you, Jacob. Thank you so much." 

"Sides, I want my kids to know where their good looks come from." She laughed at his deadpanned tone and gripped him tighter. 

He was already making her stronger.


	7. Ups & Downs

Charlotte would be the first to admit, she has her good days and then she has her not-so-good days.

It's like Russian roulette, she's never sure when she wakes up how low she is going to be, or how high. Regardless of how much she lacks the energy to get out of bed however, Jacob is always there, now a routine, to bundle her up and take her into the common room, to make her coffee without a word and just hold her. It's funny how years ago, she would never ever see herself in this position with such a man - a man who was unable to show even a sliver of affection, willingly give her a piece of himself without question.

Perhaps it's because Jacob had been through trauma himself and understands its weight, its strain on the human body and perhaps he gives a shit. Charlotte didn't really know how to word it, nor did she know how to admit that there was someone left who cared about her enough to keep her around. 

She didn't feel like she contributed at all to his life, and yet here he was, cradling her against his chest, sipping black coffee in one hand and a book (Huckleberry Finn) poised in the other, no words exchanged nor were they needed. Even in times like this, where she felt calm (tired), she couldn't help but replay the moments in the past over and over in her head, imagine different outcomes or scenarios. 

Sometimes it would make her number, sometimes it would make her sadder, it never seemed to make her happier. 

"What happened to Pinky?" His arm stilled in mid-sip and she felt his chest stall against her cheek before the breath that had been held released slowly.

"Who?" He muttered over the lip of his mug, sipping noisily before poising it over the back of the worn leather couch. She shifted slightly, running a hand through the matted hair that clung to the underside of her cheek before staring upward into Jacob's face, the red of his beard beginning to show a few strands of silver that she had previously missed. His eyes never strayed from the page of his book as he cleared his throat, waiting for Charlotte to continue. 

"Pinky." He hummed, snapping the book shut with his palm before reaching over to the coffee table, sliding it onto its surface. She continued to stare at his face, the deepening wrinkles of his crows feet, the wariness that lingered after years of playing his part within the Seed family, he was looking just as tired as she felt.

"The guard." She nodded and he let out a sigh deep from within his chest. 

"What do you want to know, darlin'?"

"What did you do to her?" 

"Is this really a conversation you wanna have, Charlie?" She paused, resting her cheek against his chest once again, closing her eyes and tuning her breathing to match his, listening to the drum of his heart, steady and unyielding. 

"I just want closure." He twisted slightly, gulping back the remainder of his coffee before sliding the now empty mug next to her own on the table, wrapping both of his arms around her and encasing her to him.

"She failed in her mission, again. She was weak, had too many chances, Charlotte." 

"But it was my fault, if I hadn't had--"

"The past is the past, Charlotte. You can't change it, we need to worry about what's comin' next." 

"I was just such a fucking asshole to her, when she tried to be my friend, and I got her kill--" Sitting up slightly, he looped his arms under her legs, cradling her to him as he swung his own legs over the side of the couch before pulling the hair tie from her hair, tucking it between his teeth and running his fingers through her locks.

"She got herself killed, Charlotte. She knew the risks, there ain't no use dwelling on that." 

"What did you do to her?" He paused as he brushed through her hair, the warmth of his breath against the crown of her head as she sat forward, legs dangling over his knees as if she were a child getting ready for school. 

"Shot her in the head, cut off her hand, delivered it to yours truly, happy?" She didn't know what to say, just allowed him to plait the enormous amount of hair she held onto the top of her head, pulled away from her face. Deep down she already knew what had happened to the red head, just hearing him admit it was enough for her to file away her chapter at St Francis into the recess of her mind.

"I don't know if I'll ever be happy, Jacob." He sighed, tucking her head under his chin, running his hands around her waist and linking just under her navel. 

"It's a long road, Charlotte. I ain't much, but I'm with you till the end of the line." She slid her hands over his and leaned back into his chest, allowing the silence to settle around them like the blankets she was wrapped in.

* * *

Jacob made her train that day to exhaustion, and although she knew she wasn't getting any better, it did help her in terms of taking her mind off of her thoughts. The ache of her joints and the sweat that clung to her back was enough to make her finally take a shower, a welcome refresh from the days of loitering around in the bunker. She scrubbed her hair, the limited amount of shampoo they could use was hardly enough to clean it but it was at least something as the heat of the water burned against her skin.

The door opened and out of a well trained habit, Charlotte turned to look to see who it was, regardless of being only one of two occupants as Jacob drifted in, peeling off his clothes, the sweat sheen coating his chest and making him look like some war-torn Greek God coming home from battle-- _oh. It's been awhile._

Washing the soap from her hair, she couldn't remember the last time they had sex, since the conversation that they had with Joseph months ago, her mental stability playing up, it had been some time. A heat curled within her as he stepped into the small cubicle, twisting her around so she could lather herself up in soap while he soaked his own hair under the water. 

She turned, her eyes glued to the way his shoulder blades twisted and moved under his skin at every motion, the way the scars glistened under the light, the array of pinks and reds that dotted the length of his back. Her eyes followed one particular one that inched from his right lower ribs down to his lower back and she reached out to trace the line with her finger down. As soon as her finger connected with his skin, he paused, tense, as she then soothed down the scar with her palm, lathering soap against his back as he stood against the stream of water pelting his chest. 

The blonde began to work the soap into his back, massaging it and looking for tense spots, working her palms into him, moulding him like clay. The heat within her began to grow at every release of the tension within him and as if on auto-pilot, she grabbed his hips and twisted him around, his back to the water as she pressed herself against him.

"Now what are you doin'--" Her hand drifted up to his chest, still soapy, before she began to slide it down his stomach, towards the object stabbing her against her hip. _My old friend._

"What does it look like?" She muttered, maintaining eye contact as she began to stroke him, his lips twitching before his hand encompassed her own, pausing her ministrations.

"Are you sure?" She felt her own eye brow raise before she gripped him harder, relishing the way his head dipped back into the tiling of the cubicle behind him, the water stream running over his neck and chest as she batted his hands away from her own. Standing on her tip-toes, she began to kiss and bite at his neck and chest, his fingers coming to rest at the back of her head, winding into her hair and tugging at every stroke and touch she could give. 

Growing bored with his chest, she began to kneel and before he could argue, she took him into her mouth, the groan from his chest reverberated against the tile and shot straight to her core. The once smoldering fire was now an inferno as she earnestly began to hum and suck him, curling her toes at every tug to her hair. 

As quick as lightning, one of his hands gripped her shoulder, pulling her up to her feet and up around his hips, her legs resting against his lower back as he positioned himself against her, her back against the cold tile.

"This is Pandora's box again cupcake, I'm not gonna be able to stop myself after this." As if an alter-ego had taken over her, she felt her lips draw into a smirk as she leaned forward, lips brushing against his. 

"Give it your best shot, old man." He grinned back at her before plunging into her depths, a snarl ripping through his throat as she felt him stretch her once again. Charlotte felt her mouth open but no sound escape her throat as she tried to accommodate him, his passion and ferocity. 

"Fuck, I missed this. I missed you. Fuck." He muttered against her mouth before leaning in, biting her bottom lip and groaning. Her head thumped against the tile, prompting his hand to wind up from her back to her crown, offering protection from further head trauma as he pummeled into her, like a man lost in the desert, finding his oasis. 

Her own hands wound around his shoulders, clawing and trying to find an anchor, her voiceless moans beginning to pick up in momentum, turning into periodic shrieks which seemed to only egg him on more.

"More." She grunted and he was was only happy to oblige, a warmth within her becoming more and more prominent, relieving the soreness of her joints, eventually washing over her. She sagged against him, a low moan drawing from her as he followed close behind, spilling himself into her and holding her close to him like his life depended on it.

"-m' sorry." She heard his voice over the spray of the water, now cold and she finally opened her eyes to his own, his hand brushing against her lip as he held her against him.

"For what?"

"I, uh, didn't pull out." She felt herself shrug before she patted his cheek. 

"If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen." He gave her a small smile before settling her back down onto the floor, her legs like jelly as she stumbled slightly, trying to stamp the pins and needles from her legs. They finished washing up, the chill of the shower beginning to feel numbing, as he stepped out of the shower and fetched a towel, choosing to help dry herself off first before focusing on him. 

"Permission to attack you in the shower, sir?" He chuckled, throwing the towel over her head. 

"Granted." 

* * *

After chucking on dry clothes, she found Jacob toying with the radio in the common room, his hair sticking up in different directions as he drummed his fingers against the metal of the table. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall, it was almost time for John and Joseph to speak with Jacob.

He raised an eyebrow at her entrance, she had been avoiding being around when the brothers called, so this was a change in schedule as he patted on his lap. She walked over to him and settled in it, sighing and waiting for the incoming screech that normally foretold a call coming through.

"Jacob." She let out a sigh she didn't know she had been holding at the tone of Joseph's voice and looked at the clock, Joseph was always on time.

"Hey Joe." 

"Everything going well?" 

"Well as can be." 

" _Well, howdy ho_." Jacob held the receiver up to his mouth as if to reply, pausing to take in the greeting. Charlotte blinked herself, staring up at Jacob and feeling her face contort into confusion.

"John." Joseph replied, his voice vacant. "How are things?"

"Everything is _fine_ , brother, _better than fine_ , more _than finer than fine_." 

"We've missed you the last few broadcasts, was afraid something had happened to you, brother--" Charlotte mouthed a 'did he really?' to Jacob who only nodded.

"Well, fatherhood does make me a busy man, plus Holly is driving me _up the fucking wall_." A clink could be heard behind John's voice, and Charlotte rolled her eyes, Jacob's frown deepening within the seconds.

"You drinking, John?" Jacob muttered into the receiver, the silence that followed his question heavy and thick, Charlotte felt awkward being there, but Jacob held her in place with a firm arm wrapped around her waist.

"Forgive me Father, for _I have sinned._ " 

"We will speak about this when you're sober, John, but I see you are doing well." Joseph's voice was eerily calm, enough to make Charlotte feel as though a storm was brewing as John huffed down the radio. "Let us remember that although the world has changed, it's our inner strength that will guide us throu--"

"Inner strength, gotcha Joe, can I speak with Jacob for a minute or eight?" Jacob sighed at the mention of his name, tapping the receiver to his forehead, his fingers drumming against the skin of Charlotte's hip as he waited for the storm to hit. 

"Sure, John. Jacob, give me a call later." There was a silence around them as Jacob waited for John to speak, which didn't last very long.

"And then there were two, howsit' goin' brother." Charlotte bit her nail, staring forward at the radio as John spoke, fearing it would combust from the sheer awkwardness of the room as Jacob spoke into the receiver.

"It's goin' well, Johnny. What's up?" 

"Been thinking a lot lately, Jake. Been thinkin' way too much. About the past and what not." Charlotte felt her face grimace, twisting to bury it into Jacob's shoulder as he held her closer. 

"Is that right?" 

"Tell me, what's it like? Waking up to her every morning? Going to bed with her every night?" Jacob's chest stilled as his hand was poised around the receiver, she felt her face flush from embarrassment. 

"Is this what you wanted to talk about?" 

"Elephant in the room, Jake. Or Charlotte in the room." She gawked at the implication and he shook his head, giving her a half smile, reassuring.

"She's doin' great, John. Got some meat on her bones, I'm taking good care of her." She gave him a sharp jab to the ribs as a smile spread across his face, twisting her within his lap.

"Yeah, Jake, that's not what I'm asking. I'm asking what my future is going to be like." The air around the pair stilled as Jacob considered John's words, staring down at Charlotte who could only cling to him, fingers digging into his shirt and flushing, embarrassment now a permanent stain across her face.

"What do you mean by that, John?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean by that." His voice slurred, heated and angry. 

"I'll talk to you tomorrow Johnny, same time."

"Just let me fucking speak to her, let me fucking talk to her--" Jacob switched the radio off quickly, throwing the receiver across the table as he held her close to him.

"He's not gonna let me go, is he?" Charlotte muttered, tilting her head upward to comprehend the undistinguishable emotions littering through Jacob's eyes. 

"Him and I both, darl'." 


	8. Sick

In all of her time that she had spent with Jacob, there was one thing Charlotte had noticed that stood out like a sore thumb - Jacob _never_ got sick. Ever.

As she woke up, blinking the sleep away from her eyes, cheek resting against his chest, she noted the strange click in his lungs as he breathed, the way he burned like a furnace - granted, he was always at a temperature that was searing, but this time it was different, this time it was humid and sweaty, her hair sticking to her face like glue from the amount of moisture the man was generating. Charlotte sat up and slipped a leg over his hip, running her fingers over his bare chest, across the pocket of scars and blisters and watched as his eyes began to open, blarily looking up at her. 

"Hey..." She whispered, earning a grunt in return, his arm slipping over his face to cover himself. Charlotte frowned as he coughed into the crook of his arm and leaned forward, pulling it away and resting the back of her hand against his clammy forehead. He grunted again, running his hands over her hips as she checked his temperature. He opened his mouth, a whine curling from his throat instead of comprehensible speech, earning another feverish cough right from the chest. 

"Water?" He nodded and she shifted off of him, padding out of the room towards the common area, the frown painted across her face as the chill of the air curled under her skin and between her toes. Fumbling for an empty glass, she filled it from the still water container they had sitting on the bench and padded back towards the room, finding Jacob sitting up, running a hand through his locks. Pausing at the doorway, she noted how long his hair had actually gotten before her eyes raked over his body. _My weird little cave man._

As if sensing her, he blinked up at her and held his arm out for the water, which she obliged. As soon as she got in reaching distance of him, he dragged her forward by the wrist, careful not to spill the water, and sat her on his knee, taking the glass and sculling it back at impressive speed. Humming, he was wracked with more coughs as she patted him on the back, hoping it at least relieved some of the tension.

"Can you talk?" He tried to, only gasping and coughing from the attempt. 

"You need to lie down and sleep some more, Jake. I'll bring you some food..." He shook his head, placing the cup down by his feet and wrapping his arms around her, his chin resting on the crown of her head as he rocked them back and forth. 

"Come on J, it's time to eat - lie down." He coughed, it sounded more aggressive than the last before letting her go and lying down on the mattress with a slow thump. She stood up and walked towards the common room again, easier than the last time and glanced up at the analogue clock ticking on the far wall - it was 10.00am. _Jacob must really be sick._

With a humph, she walked to the cabinet in the kitchenette and pulled out a can of baked beans, pulling open the cutlery drawer with perhaps too much strength, the noise of the utensils clashing with the motion as she fumbled around for a can opener. After wrestling with the ancient opener for sometime, she finally managed to crack through the metal of the can and poured the contents into the saucepan, the sauce congealed and off-putting, but it'd have to do.

As she waited for the beans to slowly come to boil, she idly looked at the radio, it's lights blinking periodically from time to time on the kitchen table and sighed. _I should let Joseph know._ A part of her didn't want to, a part of her hated Joseph for what had happened - the world ending. She couldn't help but scapegoat him for it, a deep feeling of resentment pitted within her stomach as she stared at the tattoo on her arm, gifted to her from John. _But it doesn't matter anymore, I have to let it go._

Padding over to the radio, she picked up the receiver and gave it a experimental tap a few times, just like Joseph did when he was calling through and waited in hopes of a response. It didn't take long until Joseph's voice echoed through the room, like a calm hymn in the silence.   
  
_"What is it, my brothers?"_ She blinked, unsure of what to say. _They must all share the same line._

"Um, Hi." She muttered into the radio, the moment of silence from her speaking was enough to make her feel more uncomfortable than she had been in quite some time before Joseph spoke once again.

_"Charlotte."_

"That's me." She had to cringe at herself, she wasn't really ready for this type of reunion with Joseph, she hadn't prepared for the situation but if there was one thing she knew she was good at, it was navigating the deep end. 

_"How are you, Charlotte?"_

"I'm in a bunker, the end of the world happened, things are different." 

_"And where is Jacob?"_

"That's why I am calling, he's sick. He's probably not gonna be very talkative for the next few days until that clears up." 

" _He's sick?_ " Joseph must have been just as surprised as she was. 

"Yeah, he's lost his voice and is coughing, I think it's the flu." Joseph hummed in response, the line falling silent for a few moments and Charlotte took the time to sprint up from her perch from the table, pulling the receiver along with her and stirring the beans in the pot, lowering the temperature further to avoid burning it. 

_"Tell me, Charlotte, are you happy?"_ She paused mid-stir, unsure of how to respond, before finally choosing the option of honesty over rose-coloured glasses. 

"Sometimes I'm happy, sometimes I'm incredibly sad. I don't have a place in this world." 

_"You have a place, Charlotte - you wouldn't be alive if you didn't."_ Turning off the stove with a bit more force than she normally would have, she frowned at his answer, untangling the receiver wire from around her as she fumbled for a bowl and spoon from the kitchenette. 

"Are you happy, Joseph?" She muttered back, the question slipping out before she could really think of whether or not she was stirring the pot (no pun intended). 

_"I was right, but being right isn't always a pleasurable thing, my child."_ She blinked as she rinsed the pot in the sink, steam from it's dying heat fogging against her face. She hadn't expected Joseph to be this raw, this open with her so soon, much less at all. 

"What will you do, in the new world?" 

_"I'm still waiting for that answer, Charlotte. When I see it, I'll tell you."_

"Well, I look forward to it, Joseph. I've gotta go feed the big man some beans." She put the receiver down on the table and placed the spoon in the bowl, Joseph's voice echoing behind her once she reached the doorway, making her pause in her steps.

_"We will see you soon, Charlotte."_

His voice leaving goosebumps over her skin, the depth of his words unbeknownst to her. 

* * *

Jacob wasn't too impressed with lying in bed the whole day and was much less impressed with Charlotte contacting Joseph, but nevertheless, he had no voice to yell at her about it, so he sucked it up and ate his beans like a champion. She left him alone for most of it, busying herself with cleaning anything and everything she could, the chill of the air stilling against her skin as she worked. She knew she should wear pants, but wearing Jacob's white v-neck as a shirt-dress was how she went around most days, it's not like they were expecting company.

As it got to late evening, Charlotte made _a la soup_ (canned, as always), stirring periodically, Jacob's coughs echoing from down the hallway as she stood there, lost in thought. The radio behind her clicked a few times, the noise bringing her out of her musings as she walked over to the receiver, Joseph's voice crooning through it's speakers.

 _"How are you, my brothers?"_ Charlotte blinked up at the clock and chewed her thumb nail before fumbling with the receiver, thumb poised over the button. 

_"Is Jacob not here?"_ John's voice muttered, slurred. _I wonder if he's drinking again._

 _"Jacob is sick at the moment, is that right, Charlotte?"_ She slapped her hand over her face, embarrassment flooding her cheeks before responding.   
  
"Yup, making him soup as we speak." John was silent, something that Charlotte wasn't expecting from their reunion over the radio, an awkward tension filling her and the room around her as she waited for a response.

 _"I'm sure you're taking the best of care of him, Charlotte."_ Joseph offered, in hopes perhaps of keeping the situation from escalating. 

"The best." She muttered, pulling the receiver with her to the stove and stirring the soup, watching the bubbles boil and pop at the surface. "Is there anything you two would like to pass onto him?"

_"Only that my thoughts are with him, thank you, Charlotte. Please keep me updated on him. John, do you have anything to say?"_

_"No, but I'd like to have a word with Charlotte in private, if I may brother."_ Charlotte turned off the heat on the stove and crossed her arms around her, chewing her thumb nail as she stared at the cooling liquid.

_"I'm not sure if that's wise, John--"_

_"I appreciate it, Joseph."_

"Jacob! Things are getting awkward!" Charlotte yelled from her poised position in the common room, listening for the tale tail signs of his boots hitting the floor of the bunker, clomping towards the common room, but she only heard a cough in response. "Jacob! Please!"

_"John, I don't think this is healthy --"_

_"It's just a conversation, brother."_

He grunted from the other room as she poured his soup into a bowl and set it onto the table, taking a seat by the radio, her nails clinking against the cool metal of the table as Jacob stalked through, running a clammy hand through his hair once again, eyes glowering at her, and then back at the radio.

"John's being John." He sighed as he took a seat by the bowl, patting his thigh, welcoming her to sit in his lap as he ladled the soup into his mouth. She gripped the receiver and crawled into his lap, tucking her head under his chin as they listened to Joseph and John bicker, something also uncommon. Jacob cleared his throat, thumping his fist against his chest before pulling the receiver from her palm and pressing the button.

"What's goin' on?" Charlotte's eyes widened at the rasp, the deep tone of his voice and her legs immediately shut closed, toes curling against his calves. For someone who was so sick, his voice was like liquid sex. 

_"Is that you Jacob? You sound awful."_ Charlotte rolled her eyes at the comment from the Father, _who the fuck else would it be?_

"Sick - what's goin' on?" Jacob ladled another spoonful into his mouth before running a palm under Charlotte's shirt and against her stomach, his fingers curling and uncurling against her skin. She could feel the heat and power radiating from the man as he mediated his brothers, making her skin flush under his touch.

 _"I'd like to talk to Charlotte in private, Jacob. Miss Dunn and I have a lot to discuss."_ Jacob looked down at Charlotte, eyebrow raised as she shrugged before clicking the radio back on to respond with a sigh.

"Alright." He tossed the receiver onto the table, gripping the bowl between his hands and digging into the liquid with gusto as Charlotte sat poised in his lap. 

_"Okay, John, you may speak with her, if Jacob is fine with it. If you need me, you'll know where to find me."_ Charlotte picked up the receiver, palming it before she looked up at Jacob, who slurped the remainder of the soup back with slurps reminiscent to her own mannerless childhood. From the corner of his eyes, he looked down at her and nodded towards the radio, giving permission for her to speak. 

"John?" She muttered into the microphone, a tremble appearing in her voice that she thought she had willed away. 

_"Charlotte...how are you?"_

"Alive, John. How is fatherhood treating you?"

 _"Wonderful, Charlotte - I love being a father, I love nagging women and screaming kids, I love waking up every morning with the woman I despise the most, it's great."_ Charlotte cringed, a cough from Jacob behind her prompting her to look up at Jacob, staring down at the radio in a glower - two sentences in and John is already walking on thin ice, it seems.

"Sounds, uh, great." At an attempt to lighten the mood, she pitched her tone higher. "Only a few more years to go!" John groaned down the radio, a clink of a glass confirming her suspicions of alcohol in his system as she felt Jacob's arms wrap around her mid drift, securing her to him like a vice.

_"I miss your cooking, Charlotte."_

"It's not much better down here, trust me." 

_"You know what else I miss?"_ Charlotte didn't reply, only stared forward at the receiver and concentrated on the heat radiating from the man behind her.

 _"I miss those little shorts you wore, the way you'd tuck my shirt into them and stomp around the ranch like you owned the fucking place. I miss how you'd smoke with me, how you'd sit in the Church like you didn't belong there in your blue dress, I miss how your hair glows under the morning sun, the way the green in your eyes are so vibrant when you wake up. I miss arguing with you, I miss the way you bleed."_ Jacob's leg began to bounce under her as she looked up at him, but he continued to glower, fingers drumming against her stomach in an aggressive rhythm she couldn't quite catch. 

_"I think about the Church - do you remember it, Charlotte? I saw you talking to that blonde asshole, and I saw fucking red, Charlotte. Crowded you into the bathroom and bit you so fucking hard that it bled, fuck -- I remember how beautiful you looked, so debauched, so fucking mine. You're still mine, aren't you, Charlotte?"_

"I was never yours, John." She muttered into the receiver, trembling against Jacob.

_"You were always mine, Charlotte. Tell me, have you fucked my brother yet?"_

"This isn't a confessional, John." 

_"Have you? Fucked him?"_ His insistence, his smug attitude was rubbing Charlotte the wrong way as she felt anger begin to boil in the pit of her being, with every stab of Jacob's fingers against her stomach. _You know what? Fuck him._

"Yes, I have John - let me tell you, the amount of times that man makes me cum is _insane._ " She moaned into the receiver, the added effect making Jacob's leg stall under her, his motions stopping as he drank in her words. "He does this thing when he's eating me out with his tongue that just makes my fucking toes curl, it's as if I've found God." 

John didn't respond to her words at first, the silence in the air making the feeling in the room thick and humid as Jacob's heartrate thrummed against her back. 

"You know, John, I actually wanted to thank you for leaving me to die on the side of the road, if you hadn't, then Jacob wouldn't have come got me, and God does that man _cum._ " In a fluid motion, Jacob leaned over and clicked the radio off, looping a thick arm around her small frame and throwing her over his shoulder like nothing before she could have a chance to question it. She flailed as they walked from the common room and back to the bedroom, letting the receiver drop from her hands and watching the wire coil it back to the radio. Jacob threw her onto the bed hastily, kicking his boots off and leaning forward to drag her by the hips to the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide and open.

"W-Wait-" She stuttered, reaching to cover herself up, but Jacob was quicker, diving right between her spread legs and eating her out like it was the last meal he would ever have. She groaned as he sucked and bit against her, raking her nails through the length of his hair and hooking her legs over his shoulders as he gripped her hips, grinding her groin against his mouth earnestly. Swirling his tongue over her clit, he added a finger into her depths, curling it - the noises from the action were sinful in itself as she flushed, groaning from deep within her chest as he ate her whole. 

A second finger joined him and curled as he thrust his tongue against her, hurried and harsh and before Charlotte could even think, her toes were curling and warmth was spreading through her like a typhoon. Sensing her tightening, Jacob stopped, looking up at her from between her legs, face flushed and glistening from his efforts. Charlotte frowned, looking down at him in confusion as he cleared his throat, the rumble of his voice sending sparks up her spine.

"Who do you belong to?" He muttered, fingers slowly sliding back within her and curling, making her gasp and squirm against the bedsheets in wanton. "Don't make me repeat myself." She looked at him again, watching him lean forward and glide his tongue over her clit slow and deliberately, his eyes glowering up at her, commandeering her. 

"You." She muttered and he twisted his fingers again, causing her to groan. "You-- Jacob, fuck." He hummed, standing up from his position and pulling his hard length from out of his jeans, gripping it experimentally, staring down at her with his eyebrow raised. She scrambled forward, replacing his hand with hers before gliding him down her throat in practiced ease. He groaned himself, tangling his fingers in her hair and anchoring her back and forth as she worked his length, tugging hard as she worked him. 

"You're not his, you're _mine._ " She groaned at the tenor of his voice, dripping against her thighs as she sucked him, the salt of his skin addictive on her tongue. "Who do you want to fuck you right now?" 

"You, Jacob." She muttered, and before the words left her mouth, her head was tugged back by her hair as Jacob shoved her back onto the bed, spreading her legs wide and angling his length against her, the tip pressing against her folds as he caged her in between his arms, dipping his head to rest his forehead against hers, his lips brushing against hers as he panted against them.

"Good girl." He crooned, and in one efficient glide, he slid into her depths, causing them both to groan in unison before Jacob slid out and thrusted back into her harder than before. Every thrust, every slap against her ass spurred her on as they moved, the noises even more sinful than before as she looped her legs around his hips, her own voice now gone as the momentum that he fucked her. His palm collided with her ass with a firm slap, the pain making her toes curl and her orgasm come harder and faster than before as she groaned. As she tightened, Jacob faltered, choosing to fuck her without restraint as he panted against her, driving into her like a madman. 

With a squeal, Charlotte felt herself cum, the release making her into nothing more than a ragdoll, with Jacob filling her only moments later, their combined union dripping from within her unceremoniously on the sheets as he slid out of her, lying next to her as if he had run a mile. She couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face, feeling pleasantly used as she stared up at the ceiling. 

"What spurred that on?" She asked, getting a grunt only in return, her smile widening at the sound. _Turns out my cave man gets jealous._

"You're so cute." She muttered and turned her head, seeing Jacob's eyes already were closed, his chest rising in soft breaths, dead to the world around him.


End file.
